WARNING! This scene contains some non!con (non-consensual) touching. Just wanted to let you know. I consider it non!con, even though it isn't particular graphic, it's still invasive.

Also, this scene has some minor violence. Also, sorry for all the time breaks.

"Scott get out!" Derek saw the stupid kid wasn't going to leave, so he made an impulse decision. Jackson was long gone, and good riddance. The fear alone…

Derek opened the door of his once-home, and saw a half-dozen hunters. He roared his annoyance and hatred. And of course, Kate Argent had come along to collect her prize. He chucked his jacket to the side, and charged at the crowd.

Bullets flew around him, some piercing his arms and legs. He took the two closest hunters down—one with a trip, the other with an elbow to the face (not enough to kill of course, no point in giving them a reason). He heard Kate's shout and turned toward her only to feel lighting burning into his veins.

Pain wracked his body and his muscles spasmed. The shock of the electricity shorted out his powers. Boots stepped toward him, crushing the dried leaves on the ground.

"—off. We have what we came for, boys." Her musical voice grated against his ears. If Scott wasn't Stiles best friend… ."Can't stay out of trouble, can you?"

Blonde hair obstructed her traitorous face. Derek bared his teeth, fangs and all, at her. He hated her more than he hated anyone. His blood burned at the though of closing his fists around her throat… to tear. He wanted to watch her blood spray free for what she did; at the same time he wished she were never born.

"Now, now, sweetie, that's just not the look this season." She showed him the wand, then dragged the tip across his torso. It caressed his skin, cold and metallic, before she turned it on and he felt as if the sun exploded inside of him for hours and hours on end. Blackness came too quick; black wasn't fast enough.

Derek woke up, alone, in some sort of holding cell. It was still dark, and he doubted he'd been out more than a couple hours. His arms ached from being chained above him. Though he could move his hands and elbows, it was not quite enough to work out the ache building up between his shoulder blades.

He relaxed as much as he could in the situation. No one was around. Looking around, he had the sudden suspicion he knew where he was. God.

The Argent bitch hadn't taken him more than a few dozen feet. He was in his own basement. Equipment that didn't belong to his family—most likely Kate's personal torture devices—sprawled over what had been the Hale's full moon chamber. Well, chamber for those that couldn't control their own transformation. He'd spent countless moons down here with his mother when he was young, and more when he was first in middle school. It had been so long and he'd never bothered to look here after returning the fire.

Derek heard footsteps coming down the old tunnel. Just one set. They were too damn familiar. They stopped just outside the door.

Click.

The door was opening with a slight rattle. Kate stood there for a moment, still in her gray tank-top and skinny jeans. She had no weapons on her. It grated him that she was so sure of herself, knew everything. He wanted to see her crumble.

"Oh, Derek." She walked in, closing the door behind her. She turned the spot lights on him, fiddling with a little of the equipment.

"Silent treatment?" She tsked. "You were never one to really talk. Maybe that's why it was so easy. Getting you to trust me."

He watched every move she made. If he was going to die, he wanted to know it. She tapped her fingernails careless against the voltage controller wired to his side. She sighed, coming closer to him.

She smelled exactly the same: confident, floral, and off. It took a while to notice the off, but it was still there. She wasn't right in the mind, not since he'd known her. She crowded into his space, laying her fingers gently on the chains half-holding him up.

"Comfortable enough, sweetie? I want to make sure you are at peak performance for when my beautiful, darling niece comes to pay you a visit. Don't you want to make a nice impression for her?"

She checked the other side before moving on to the rest of the equipment.

Derek held his tongue. He did not want to play into her hands. Not again. Never again.

"Still not talking? You know, I have all night." She laughed. "For you, I've always had all night. Now, if you're not going to talk now, perhaps I can get you pissed off to growl for me when I bring her. Oh man, you make it so easy Derek."

Kate surveyed the room. "You know. This wasn't my favorite place, but it certainly holds good memories for me."

She sauntered up to him.

He wanted nothing more than to get away from her, get away—perhaps after mauling her (but that would involve touching)—and curl up next to Stiles. Stiles was comforting, even if they didn't know each other as much as he wanted to.

Kate extended her finger, ready to touch him. She stopped just shy of his bare, sweaty skin. Her could feel her breath on him and it turned his stomach.

"I hate you."

"Oh, Derek. Sweetheart. I already knew that." She laid a few fingers on him, slowly tracing them down his lower abdomen. She stopped just at the waistline of his jeans.

He shut his eyes, trying desperately to not see or feel or smell her, trying instead to focus on the moments in Stiles' bedroom the other night, trying to remember the way he felt against the door, his heady scent (when had it turned heady? after he found out?), and the way his lips curled right before he told a particularly stupid joke or had a terrible idea—and he told lots of stupid jokes and had hordes of terrible ideas.

Then her hand plunged down his jeans and grabbed a hold of him, her hand a vice. He growled and snapped his fangs at her, writhing away from her grip. She rubbed her finger tips over his tip, her smile absolute poison. He squirmed, letting out a roar of humiliation and pain.

"This used to be fun, Derek. No need to be shy." She laughed, then let him go. "Make sure to give a proper performance for me, sweetie."

Her smile was pure evil as she screwed the voltage knob over. "I want the last face you see to be mine."

He blacked out.

"I don't want to torture you," she said. "But he does."

Kate walked away.

An older man, heavy-muscled, like he'd been a prize fighter for years, walked in and cracked his knuckles. Like he'd enjoyed it. Sick bastard hunters.

"Leave him in good enough shape," she said. Turning back to Derek, she gave him her most winning smile. "I'll see you later, precious."

The man gave him a grimace—like the guy couldn't smile. Derek ignored the man as much as he could. If he had laser eyes, he would have loved to have burned a whole through Kate Argent. If he could keep the secret between Scott and Allison, perhaps Scott—and by extension Stiles—would be safe. After seeing his family burn, even those he was rough with, he wanted to be okay.

The man started with his fists. Derek resisted the urge to laugh. The guy packed a decent punch, heck, could probably give an omega a run for their money, but Derek was used to so much more pain. Compared with the death of his family… this was nothing.

Each beating almost healed by the time the second punch came, even with the minor currents of electricity running through him at the moment.

After a good fifteen minutes, the man rolled his shoulders and picked up a baseball bat. Derek nearly choked when he saw it. No singe marks blemished the wood, but he would have known that bat anywhere. He'd used it for years to play with his friends during the long summer days of his youth. He remember Kate had taken an interest in it, and wanted to borrow it for "protection," she had claimed.

So, perhaps she hadn't lied about not turning him straight, but perhaps her vindictiveness came about because she actually loved him. He did laugh at that.

The big man's eyes went wide, then narrowed and he hit Derek as hard has he could, cracking a couple ribs before Derek blacked out again. What a wonderful way to spend time…

Kate kept with the questions, talking about his guilt. Damn. She was making the connection. First starting with Jackson… what a fool. He wanted to shout that he was never in love with her. Never. He almost snorted. How could he be in love with anyone else when he had a mate his entire life who lived so close by?

"He's not in love with Allison… not like Scott."

Fuck.

"Oh Derek, you should have said something sooner. Detective work is not for me. I'm an action kind of girl." She smiled up at him.

"Still not talking? Well, don't worry. You aren't obsolete just yet. Once we have Scott, oh man, life is gonna be beautiful."

Kate flipped her phone about. She smelled absolutely pleased with herself. She pressed a few buttons.

"Chris?" she said.

"Where the hell are you Kate."

"Wow, so cranky. I just thought I'd give you a piece of information you may want to know."

"Kate. Answer me."

"Oh, come on. Stop looking at Jackson as the second beta, and look a little closer to home."

She tapped her fingers on the desk, poking at Derek's jacket.

"Let me put it this way, dear brother. Your daughter is dating a werewolf. Now, how about you take a look after my favorite niece at this little dance of hers. I've got more… business to attend to. Bye."

She hung up, tossed her phone on the makeshift desk and turned back to Derek.

"He does have the most adorable puppy-dog eyes, Derek. Really. I can't believe I didn't see it sooner."

Tapping her chin in thought, she walked slowly toward him.

"He's adorable, perhaps that's why you are protecting him."

Derek clenched his jaw to keep from saying anything about Stiles.

"But if he's in love with Allison, what does that get you, sweetie? Haven't we been down this road before? You're here because of me. You're here because you let me in. No way I could transform you to what you so desperately wanted to be. And falling in love with a sixteen year old?"

He snorted. "Taking one right out of your handbook." If it wasn't Scott, he could at least play along.

"Oh really. Loved? More like played." Her smile was wicked.

Lifting a blunt nail, she scratched a light circle around Derek's left nipple. He snarled.

"How I've missed your snarling and growling and hating me every time we fucked. Too bad I have actual business to attend to. I'd certainly love another go around before I put a bullet to your head like the rabid dog you are."

She forced him to look in her eyes.

"Good night, Derek. And sweet dreams."

Her laughter trailed behind her, echoing down the dark hallways of the basement. Finally, silence. He could be in peace for at least a few minutes.

He thought of Peter—his apparently insane uncle—and how he could take him down. Pretending to work along with him only furthered his own goal. He only hoped Stiles would help out—if not for Derek, then at least for Scott. The instant Peter was down, he would be the alpha. Poor Scott really was dumber than nails to believe the crap he was spouting about a cure. Manipulation wasn't his finest skill, but it had worked in this instance. Of course, when dealing with Scott, yeah. Wasn't the hardest. Allison Allison Allison was all the kid thought about.

Derek closed his eyes, just for a little bit. Perhaps he could get a little rest, even chained up like he was. He needed the rest. He hoped that someone would come for him soon. Come on Stiles, you traced one text, can you trace a phone?

I didn't expect to really enjoy writing her, but my god, she is like pure evil. So great to used as a character foil. I felt the need to make her even worse and more evil than she is in the show.

Tell me how I did on this.

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